The London Blitz
by Jay1892
Summary: America must sit and watch as England is constantly suffering from Nazi Germany's countless bombing raids. Desperate for revenge, but unable to take it out because of his boss who resfuses to get involved. Will America be able to save his best friend?
1. London is Burning

**September 7****th****, 1940 **

**London, England. **

It was a dark, rainy, and depressing night when it happened. What exactly happened that night well I'll get to that later. All I can tell you now is that it was of the worst things I have ever seen, well aside from 9/11, but that's another story that's also too painful for me to talk about anyway. I remember the night well; I was with him, England… Arthur I mean. I remember I couldn't stop complaining about how rainy his country was an he just scolded me with a scowl rambling about how his country was a million times more cultured than mine and that his country side was beautiful and all that crap he told me every time I said something negative about his nation. I remember I was sitting in the window alcove of his office, staring at the moon from behind the rain streaked glass. Arthur sat over at his desk, papers pushed aside for a moment as he enjoyed a cup of his favorite earl gray tea. Lately he hadn't been getting a lot of sleep and he had been extremely stressed over the whole World War II thing. I was glad to see he was finally taking the time to sit back and enjoy a cup of tea, something I hadn't seen him do in weeks.

He was perfectly fine a few moments before calling me another one of his freakish insults like 'wanker' before it happened. I heard the shattering crash of his tea cup hitting the floor. One of his beloved Wedgewood's tumbling down to the floor and meeting it end of a dozen tiny fragments. "Clumsy," I laughed knowing the idiot let the cup slip from his fingers accidentally. "That was your favorite cup stupi-." I instantly cut off my smart remark as soon as I got a look at his face. He had gone deathly pale, like he had seen the grim reaper himself. His green eyes were wide and clouded over with some kind of awful twisted emotion I don't even think I could start to describe. His hands trembled as his finger curved like talons as if he was trying to grip onto something, anything even the air. His mouth hung open and his breath came quiet and shaky. "…I-Iggy?" I questioned worriedly as I shifted in my seat so my feet were on the floor. Suddenly he slipped out of his chair, crumbling onto his knees on the floor; his hands know moved to his mouth as he made these god awful choking noises. I thought he was going to throw up so I quickly dashed and grabbed the garbage pail, placing in under his head so he wouldn't get upset about ruining his floor later. But when he finally did cough up whatever it was he was trying to cough up well… I'll tell you one thing, it wasn't vomit.

…It was blood. Dark, sticky, crimson blood splattered all over the insider of the pail and dripping down his chin at the corners of his mouth. "Arthur!" I exclaimed his name in complete shock as he collapsed onto his side and curled into a ball, clutching his chest. His mouth opening and closing with silent cries of agony, the only noises he made were gurgling and choking ones. "Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!" I called his name over and over as I gripped onto his shoulders and tried to flip him over onto his back. "Arthur! Tell me what's wrong! Where does it hurt! Arthur!" But he couldn't respond no matter how many times I demanded he do so. His whole body shook furiously in short quivers and trembles. I was absolutely horrified. I had no idea what was wrong with him. He had been perfectly fine a minute ago, having a normal conversation, and now here he was nearly having a seizure on the floor and coughing up blood!

I could see he was staring to black out; his eye lids closing half way and his green eyes starting to slightly roll back in their sockets. "Arthur… Arthur, don't pass out… stay awake." I warned as I grabbed his chin and held his head straight so I was looking straight in his paling green eyes. "Arthur come on! Tell me what's wrong!" I said as I shook him a little move violently than I should have, but I was desperate for him to stay awake. All he simply did was move one trembling hand to his chest and clutched the spot over his heart. In a voice so small weak and raspy he finally whispered,

"L-London… London is burning…" And with the pathetically weak statement his eyes closed and he went limp in my arms; head falling back to the floor out of my grip.

That was when I understood the seriousness of what was happening. England's capital… his heart… was being attacked by only god knew what. It was the only explanation and it was the most horrifying one as well. I did the only thing I could do; I screamed. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. Someone help him… do something… save him… but I knew that no one could really do anything for him. It was his land that was being attacked and unless the attack on London stopped then his heart would keep suffering the pain and the damage until well… until it killed him.

A few of the soldiers stationed in the house came rushing in to find out what in god's name I was screaming about, they were shocked to find the scene before them. Unsure of what to do for him they just kind of kneeled down next to him panicked along with me. Why was being attacked? Who was doing it? The Germans or another one of the axis powers? "Sir Kirkland! Sir Kirkland!" Another voice came from the door way. "London! London! The lower east side has been bombed! The Luftwaffe ships are bombing the city!" So it was that German bastard. I looked over to unconscious England lying motionless on the floor, his chest just barely rising and falling in shaky and uneven breaths. How dare he do this… how dare that god dammed Nazi son of a bitch.

I then swore to god right there in that office that I would get the Nazi bastard back if it was the last thing I ever did.

**Another one of my dark history series stories. This one is about the London Blitz (No duh its in the title) from September 7th 1940 to May 10th 1941. The London Blitz was a series of bombings from Nazi Germany's Luftwaffe air planes. Although the bombs were spread all over England the most bombs were dropped in the capital of London. The blitz began with the bombing of London which went on every night for 57 nights. **  
**This story is supposed to be about the suffering England must go through during these bombings considering his captial is his heart. **  
**Sort of USXUK will change P.O.V's every so often as well**


	2. The Differences He Makes

How could this have happened? I couldn't help, but think to myself. Well obviously this was an act of war against the UK, that was clear enough, but how did it get to where I wasn't even allowed to help England. I tried desperately to persuade my boss into helping him, but he went off on a stupid tangent about 'It's in our country's best interest if we stay out of foreign affairs' and blah, blah, blah. It wasn't fair! But I knew I was a country first, a brother, a friend, an enemy, and a lover second. But nicely enough my boss let me at least visit him and check on his condition. I felt awful just standing there in the bleak, white, and freakishly sterile hospital room. All I could do was still there and watch him as nurse and doctors poked and prodded him with needles and such, doing whatever they could to ease his pain. Sure morphine and other pain killers could help ease the pain, but it couldn't take it away entirely. Every country knew that.

His skin as still very pale and his lips were almost tinted blue from the chills that seemed to ravish his weak, thin body. Although his expression was eased more than the first attack, his bushy brows were still furrowed with the still present throb of phantom pain. He didn't wake up either, he was alive definitely, just much too weak to stay conscious… or that could've been the sedative, but I don't know I'm not a doctor. I had pulled up one of the little cheap arm chairs in the room next to his bed side where I sat and just stared at him for hours, waiting for any sign of change in his condition. The surviving citizens of London had began to evacuate into the underground bomb shelters; the city hadn't even started cleaning the broken buildings and such yet out of fear there would be another attack.

Yet all was silent in the still, little white, clean hospital room. There were faint sounds of nurses and doctors bustling about the hallways, taking care of injured survivors. Maybe the German's weren't going to attack tonight. Of course though I spoke too soon. Me and my awful habit of jinxing myself.

Arthur shot up right in his bed, IV's nearly ripping out of his arm as he did so. Surprised by the sudden moment from the previous still body as jumped and outright fell out of my chair. Arthur let out a blood curdling scream as he gripped onto the gray bed sheets out of desperation to ease the pain. "Make it stop! Make it stop!" He cried desperately in that pained British accented voice. So raspy and dry. I scrambled up from the floor and to the door.

"Nurse! Nurse!" I called for one of the women clad in white. A quirky little brunette shot up from the nurse's station, grabbing a box full of glass viles as she quickly jogged into the room.

"Put this in his mouth!" She barked a demand in a small and timid voice as she handed me a clean mouth guard. Prying Arthur's mouth open I shoved in the mouth guard to keep him from biting through his tongue. "Good now hold him steady!" She barked again. Like the perfect soldier I complied to her orders I put both of my large gloved hands on Arthur's thin and rather feminine shoulders; trying to stop him from thrashing. The nurse struggled and pulled his arm out; locking in her under arm and shaking as he thrashed. She pulled ou a needled and with pin point precision shoved it into Arthur's arm, injecting the sedative straight into his blood stream.

For the few seconds before he began to fade out of consciousness time slowed down and something unusual occurred. In the distance I could hear it. The humming of plane propellers, the small whistle the bombs made as the plummeted to the earth and the explosion as the bombs made contact with the ground which mixed simultaneously with Arthur's agonizing screams. Every time one landed he let out yet another scream and the sound of those exploding bombs and cries of pain will forever haunt me; forever echoing in my mind and ringing in my ears.

As the sedative coursed through his body his eyes slowly and drowsily fell heavily over his paled green eyes. His body went limp, his jaw slack as the mouth guard fell from his mouth and onto the pillow under his head. It was almost too sickening to watch; I looked away and instead turned to the little brunette nurse. She sighed a heavy sigh and pulled the locks of her brown that had fallen out of place behind her little ears. "That should help him rest for awhile," She explained in a cockney accent as she smoothed the creases in her uniform. I stood there in silence, giving her nothing more than a simple and empty nod to show my understanding. She quietly moved to Arthur's bedside; removing the IV and cleaning up the fresh wounds from the torn needles. I still observed in silence, my brown gloved hands balled into tight fists. I glared at the tiled floor intensely from behind my Texas frame glasses.

How long was this going to go on for? Twice in two nights, in the capital city no less, that was almost too much for one nation to bear, no matter how strong they were. Even I, the United States of freakin' America, wouldn't be able to handle so much damage. If London was bombed again would Arthur be able to survive it? "Would you help me move the gurney?" The little brunette nurse's voice interrupted my thoughts. "We should move him to a room on a lower level of the building." That made perfect sense. No one wanted to be on the top floor of a building while active bombs were raining from the sky. I nodded and she moved to unlock the gurney's small black wheels. I moved behind the bed, tightly gripping the pushing the bed forward and out the now open door with Arthur still passed out on top. The little nurse quickly shuffled after me; making sure the gurney was going straight and not into the wall. We walked in silence. The only sounds were the small _click_ of her heeled white shoes on the floor and the small squeals and squeaks of the wheels.

I gazed down at Arthur from under the rims of my glasses. His thick brows permanently slightly furrowed. The shadows of his blonde lashes caressing his pale cheeks. His mouth slightly hanging open as his breath came softly from behind his lips. Even thought he looked peaceful in his unconscious state I knew, beyond what his shut down brain could feel, the pain of his people's suffering was coursing through his veins like poison. "He'll be alright… Sir Kirkland is very strong…" The little nurse's voice once again interrupted my trance like thoughts. I turned my gaze over towards her.

"When I was young," She began to explain. "I lost both my parent's to sickness and I had no family members to live with. So I was placed in an orphanage and I hated it there. I hardly spoke to anyone or played with the other children. The sisters at the orphanage deemed me a lost cause and let me be so I could suffer with loneliness. I remember Sir Kirkland always made an effort to visit the children in the orphanage and play with them." That was so like him; Arthur always had a soft spot of children. "The day he came everyone was so excited and honored to have the man who was our nation come visit. Everyone else flocked to him, but I continued to sit alone under a tree in the back yard, too afraid and shy to try and approach him when everyone else was around. I watched him as he politely brushed off all the other children and he alone approached me. 'Why are you all alone?' he asked me. 'Mummy and daddy left me all alone' I replied. He smiled down at me and gently patted my head. 'Not everyone has a mum or dad, I didn't and yes it did get very lonely. But you know, I found that I didn't need a mum or dad to be happy. I had my friends and my people and that is what has made all the difference.' After that day I opened up. I started smiling, making friends, and transforming into a new person. Sir Kirkland was the one, for me, who made the difference." The small girl finished her story, slightly out of breath.

Her story brought me back; way back to when I was nothing more than a newly discovered landmass, not even a country yet. I was still so lost, so lonely, and sure of the meaning to my life, but Arthur was the one who changed that. He took me in, made me his brother, and treated me as such. Yes what a difference he had made in my life. Both differences that were good and difference that were bad, but none the less he really is the person who made me who I am today. "Me too." I mumbled as a smile tugged up on the corners of my mouth. He had made all the difference.


	3. Some Hero I am

Much to not only my disappointment, but Arthur's as well these attacks continued. Night after night after night after night. He would jerk upright, screaming at the top of his lungs and clutching his chest and begging for someone to make the pain stop. The little brunette nurse, who had later introduced herself as Abby, would inject him with more sedative as I held him down and tried to keep his thrashing to a minimum. This had become routine. An awful and somber routine.

He never really woke up. He was always too weak or too drugged out on sedatives and morphine to actually be conscious and coherent. There were a few times where his green eyes would open into little slits and gaze about the room, at me, at Abby and then they would close again until his next attack. Every day I could feel myself constantly shrinking to life sized proportions as I realized I wasn't able to help him. My bosses wouldn't allow it. Stupid isolationism, what a load of bull shit…. Still I was a country first and a… well everything else second. Still every time I went through that same awful routine I could feel myself shrinking and my heart breaking, every single night for those horrific 57 nights. Yes I said 57, England was bombed in its capital city more times than the stars on the American flag. To be honest with you I was really surprised he had managed to survive it every night; even though every time an attack came about I mentally prepared myself for the worse. But that's my Iggy, huh? Stubborn as a jackass; he'd never die without a fight or at least properly saying goodbye to me.

September had now turned into November and slowly the bombings on London itself had subsided. The German Nazi bastard was focusing on something else other than England's heart; we just hadn't figured out where that place was yet. But during this time Arthur's pain was dulled to a point where he could be taken off the sedatives and actually be conscious. I sat at his bed side eagerly waiting for him to open his eyes. Abby had said it was only a matter of time before he regain consciousness and that was something I was entirely too impatient for. I fidgeted, constantly shifting in my chair and bouncing my foot up and down. Taking off my glasses and polishing them time and time again even though they were already spotless. "Don't worry Mr. Jones," Abby reassured me, putting a small comforting hand on my shoulder. "Sir Kirkland will wake soon, just be patient."

"Patients has never been my strong point." I replied restlessly. According to England I was the king of being impatient; always diving in head first to things that should be thought over carefully. But that was my nature; there was nothing I could do about it.

"Mmh…" came a small groan from the blonde in the bed and caused both of us to freeze dead in our tracks and whip are heads to where Arthur was beginning to stir out of his sleep. I practically launched myself out of my chair and slid on my knees to the side of the bed; Abby followed me in a much less over dramatic fashion. His emerald green eyes opened into small narrow slits as he gazed up at the white ceiling. His eyes slid in their sockets, exploring the room until they came to a stop on me. "Al…?" He rasped weakly.

"Yeah Iggy! It's me Alfred." First word that comes out of his mouth? My name! That couldn't make me happier. He groaned a little rubbing his eye with one hand and then pulling his messy unkempt bangs out of his face. "Don't call me… by that _stupid_ nickname…" Yup that was my Iggy. Telling me he hated my nick name for him even though he just woken up from what was practically a coma.

He propped himself up on his thin elbows; doing his best to ease his weak trembling body so he could sit up. "Let me help," I said as I stood up and gently took his shoulders to help him up. He nearly immediately brushed me off.

"I can lift myself up _thank you_." He weakly snapped, putting as much acid into his voice as he could manage. Slowly, but surely he dragged himself by this propped elbows until he sat upright on stacked up pillows. It was silent for a moment; his green eyes just wandering around the room a bit. Inspecting each little detail with a well trained and patient gaze.

"H-How do you feel?" I asked just to fill the silence.

"Like I got hit by a double-decker bus." He said his voice quick, firm, and really ticked off. Well what was I supposed to say to that?

"I can give you more pain killers I-if you want…" Abby chirped in. Arthur's gaze slid over to where the small brunette was practically climbing over my shoulder to talk to him. He stared at her for a moment; on thick eyebrow slowly arching.

"You seem very familiar…" He mused quietly. "Have I met you before?"

Her face lit up and she eagerly nodded her head. "Y-yes! I'm Abigail Blazedale. You came to visit the orphanage I lived at when I was little, St. Margret's." She explained as she tried to contain the excitement of talking to him again.

He brought a hand up to his chin and gazed up at the ceiling in thought as he ran through the centuries of memories he had in his head. "Yes… I think I remember…" he said in realization. "You were the little girl sitting alone in the yard."

Abby nodded her head nearly unable to contain her joy. "Yes, yes! It's so good to see you again Sir Kirkland… w-well not here in the hospital… but still it's good to talk to you again!" She stuttered nervously.

"Yes, yes it's very wonderful to see you are well." He replied hastily (A bit to Abby's disappointment.) and turned to me; his green eyes burning with alarm and worry. "What day is it? How long have I been out? Are my people okay? What I am I doing here when there's a war going on outside?" Question after question he fired at me. As soon as I would try to answer one question he would just hit me with another one.

"Well more or less yes you're people are recovering. You're here because Germany bombed London and it sort of left you in a coma for awhile…" I explained reluctantly; trying to leave out as many details as I could so I wouldn't rile him up.

"How long is 'awhile'?" He asked as his thick eye brows furrowed on his forehead.

"Uh well um…" I hesitated in telling him because I knew if I did he'd probably freak. I considered lying to him, but once I looked into the green eyes desperately seeking my answer I thought otherwise. "Uh… about a… a month…"

He started at me for a second; mouth hanging open and eyes before something inside him snapped and he exploded. "What!? What do you mean a month!?" A shouted furiously causing me to flinch and Abby to cringe back towards the wall. "This is ridiculous! I can't be sitting here like an imbecile while my country is under attack!" He shouted as he ripped the sheets off his bed and with a quick wince of pain pulled the I.V. from his arm. "Clothes! Where in the bloody hell are my clothes!?" Me and Abby stood silent and motionless as he tore through different drawers to locate his normal clothes instead of those generic green pajamas he was in. (I know this sounds awful, but it was kinda funny…)

He cut himself from short from his little tangent and left out a loud and painful gasp before crippling to the ground hugging his leg to his chest. "Damn that Nazi bastard! Attacking the ports how dare he!" He screamed through gritted teeth. I assumed his sudden pain must've been caused by a bombing from Germany's Luftwaffe planes. Even though he was in pain I was relieved to see that it wasn't London that had been attacked this time.

Abby and I quickly moved to help him off, but by this point he was so outraged that he just angrily pushed us away and continued to writhe on the floor alone. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth together as he growled a long string on inaudible curse words (Well it was either that or something in Old English…) I felt so helpless, watching him suffering like that. I couldn't help him, I couldn't ease his pain. But even if there was a way for me to help he wouldn't let me help him anyway. He was just way too god damn stubborn. I could just feel myself fading away… I was loosing myself as a hero. At that moment I had never felt more human. A stupid mortal who was incapable of anything. I couldn't be a hero… well not a hero to the person who I wanted to protect most.

Within a few moments his pain had dulled away and he laid there on ground; breathing heavily out of his mouth with a heaving chest as his hands trembled. He looked so small and frail with those now pale green eyes clouded with pain; his skin as pale as a sheet and his forehead beaded with sweat. Too weak to protest again me I gently picked him up in my arms bridal style and placed him back in bed. Only then did I truly realize how weak he had become. He felt so much lighter like had lost weight; a lot of weight. He just stared off mindlessly into the distance as I retrieved a clean blanket from one of the drawers and placed it over his thin frame. The cream colored cloth turning into mountains and valleys against the curves, dips, and lines of his body. "I'll get him some water…" Abby announced as she quickly paced out of the room to the hallway. I just cleared a little space and sat on the edge of Arthur's bed, reaching up and brushing his messy blonde bangs out of his face. Usually if I did that he would glare daggers at me or something, but he just continued to stare of into the distance. He was so far away no matter how far a stretched I couldn't reach him.

"Why aren't you doing anything…?" He rasped quietly.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I continued to stroke his hair. Obviously I was doing something.

"The war… everyone just… abandoned me…" He whispered almost inaudibly. At the moment England had no allies; not with that stupid pervert France just openly surrendering to that German bastard and Russia too pre occupied with his own territorial gains. England was standing alone in this; against the entirety of the Axis Powers. "Why won't any one help me…?" He gaze slid over from the wall and to mine; a gaze so hurt and sorrowful that it made my chest hurt uncontrollably. "Why won't you help me…? You are the last one who I thought would abandon me…." That was a strike straight into my heart.

"I didn't abandon you Arthur!" A shouted in protest. "I would never abandon you, but…!" But what? What was I supposed to tell him? Because my boss wouldn't let me help my oldest and dearest friend? Because we wanted to be selfish and save our own hides by not involving ourselves in the war and letting Europe take all the heat since we live all the way in the Western Hemisphere? "I… I can't… I can't get involved…" I muttered quietly; hanging my head in shame. My president was a great man… truly he was, but… boy did I hate him at that moment.

Arthur moved his gaze away again and looked back off into the distance. The silence he let fall between was making me fidget and twitch with unease. "Leave me be…" He finally breathed a soft sentence into the silence.

"Arthur I…" I began to protest, but he quickly cut me off.

"_Now._" I had never heard anyone put so much acid into one single world before. Suppressing a little shiver I slowly got off the bed and shuffled to the door; gently pulling it to a close behind me. I stood there for a moment; just starring off into space past all the nurses, doctors, and patients that passed me by. I removed my glasses brought my forearm over my now unshielded eyes and tried let the darkness comfort me. Of course though it didn't.

Some hero I turned out to be.


	4. Getting My Priorities in Order

**A/N: This chapter will be in third person everybody so this is not just from Alfred's perspective anymore. Kay thanks my lovies. 3**

Alfred starred out the window of his office back in the states. The sky outside had recently turned dark with the night and the glass of the window streaked and stained with trails of rain drops. He had long ago loosened his tie and abandoned on the floor next to his swivel chair. Papers were strewn everywhere; the desk, the floor, even on the sofa across the room. He stopped nervously tapping his fountain pen against the desk and threw it to the other end; letting a long sigh blow out from between his pursed lips and running his fingers through his blonde hair, further messing up the already uncontrollable golden locks.

It had been about a month and a half since he had left the small island nation of England. Arthur had asked Abby to converse the message of his wish for Alfred to leave his country and return to his home and stay there. (Well he hadn't said in such a nice manner it was more like "Go sod off you ungrateful git and crawl back into the pit of a country you crawled out from.") But with a heavy heart and more than just a little hesitation Alfred crawled back into the cock pit of his plane and flew home. Even the wonderful free feeing of soaring though the air (Flying was one of his most favorite past time) couldn't lift his spirits from the dark hole they seemed to have fallen into.

Impatiently he stood up from his chair and paced over to the window where he could faintly see his reflection starring back at him and the light of a single floor lamp glowing behind him. He could just barely make out the outlines of buildings of Washington D.C. which lay only a couple miles from his home. He pressed his palm to the cold rain streaked glass and looked over his capital. What if it was his city that was burning? What if it was his people being killed by the attacks of German bombers? He bet that Arthur would help him in a heartbeat if it was Alfred under attack instead of the other way around. That much he was sure of. That knowing also is what made his heart throb and pound as if it was being pushed down by the weight of the world. Oh how is heart ached for his suffering comrade….

A few knocks lightly echoed from the door on the side of the room. "What?" Alfred replied to the knock harshly as he gave a tired and frustrated sigh.

"Sir," A slightly southern twanged voice came as one of the soldiers stationed in the house as he entered the room. A young boy maybe only in his late teens. A crop of short brown hair sprouted from his head and stood blended with hazel eyes. Alfred could tell by the buttons and patches on his uniform he was part of the air force.

"What is it? I'm busy…" It didn't look like he was, but all Alfred really wanted was to wallow in his loneliness while he worried himself senseless over his suffering friend.

"Sir… we have report coming in that there is an extremely large battalion of Luftwaffe planes that are going to make their way towards London tomorrow evening." His voice was grim and his strong, chiseled face sullen. This instantly caught Alfred's attention. "It is reported that the planes are armed with very high level explosives and bombs."

Alfred bit down on his lip, the pungent metallic taste of blood seeping into his tongue as he squeezed his eyes shut and took out his growing frustration on the window in front of him. A circle now remained where his fist had made contact; rain now blowing into the room and onto the front of his wrinkled white button down shirt. Breathing heavily he looked down at his hand which was now streaked red with fresh blood from where small fragments had imbedded themselves in his skin. With tired eyes he gazed over at the officer who just stood there rigid and slightly pale at Alfred sudden and violent behavior. "Sorry…" He muttered slightly embarrassed by the fact he couldn't keep his cool. "Have someone come and fix that will you?" he said as he shuffled over to his desk and reached inside one of the wooden drawers for a small first aid kit.

"I will, but first sir… would it be alright if I said something?" he asked shyly. Alfred gazed over at him from behind the surface of his glasses and gave a nod of approval. "To be honest with you sir we feel the same way you do." Alfred stopped rummaging through the first aid kit and looked over at the young brunette with curiosity. "We feel that America should be helping England instead of just sitting here acting like ignorant children who know nothing about the affairs of war." All the feelings Alfred had been feeling were being put into words by this young officer who didn't even 1/10th of the years of experience Alfred had. "We should help our allies! Not turn our backs on them! For awhile now a few others and myself have been planning on sneaking out and flying to England with war planes to help aid them against the German raiders! Please sir join us! This is the perfect opportunity! Our brothers need our help!" His spoke passionately and full of spirit; fire burning in his hazel eyes. Never before had a plan sounded so absolutely crazy yet so brilliant and appealing at the same time. Alfred once again looked at him from over the rims of his Texas frame glasses.

"What's your name?" He asked curiously, not giving away whether or not he agreed with this plan. The brunette swallowed hard for a second, wondering if her had blown his cover and explained their rescue mission to the wrong person.

"Ames sir… Private Jacob Ames." Alfred hesitated for a moment; thinking it over before giving the nervous boy an answer.

"… Alright… What time are you guys planning to take off?" Alfred swore that, that boy's face lit up like a Christmas tree at his approval.

"Tomorrow at dusk so we can make it to England by night time."

"Good then I'll meet you at the air base at dusk. Don't you worry about old Roosevelt; I'll take care of him." Even though he was technically betraying his boss's wishes for once Alfred needed to be a friend, an ally, a brother, and a lover first and be a country second for once in his life.

**Okay before people freak out all like "OMG it's so short!" well I have a perfectly valid reason for this. This chapter is just a short prelude to the next chaoter which is going to be the climax of the story. It'll be up shortly so no freaking out, okay?**  
**Somone informed me that back during the Blitz some american soldiers flew over to England and lied about their nationality so they could help fight against German raiders and that's where this idea came from. **  
**So yeah... please enjoy my lovies, don't hate me too much, and please comment. Thanks! 3**


	5. The Second Great Fire of London

**December 29****th****, 1940. **

**London, England.**__

After convincing his boss that he was merely going to England to check up on Arthur and taking Jacob and the other boys with him for protection the old man agreed to let him go; most likely feeling awful that he was hurting Alfred and Arthur's relationship with his isolationism. Alfred and the seven boys Jacob had talked about the previous night loaded up and took to the skies ready for battle and death if need be. The sky grew darker and darker with every passing hour of flight. The sun sank under the shifting waves of the cold Atlantic sea and the moon began to rise high into the sky above the small group of American planes. "Sir, do you read me? Over." Jacob's voice buzzed over the radio and into Alfred headphones.

"Yes I do Private Ames. Over." He responded.

"Sir we'll be arriving over London soon. I suggest that we ready for battle and arm the weapon systems. Over." That was right. Soon they would be flying over London. Alfred only hoped they hadn't arrived too late; that the German were not already in the midst of their major attack. He hoped Arthur would be okay…. He had to love through this he just had to…. "Sir, do you copy? Over." Jacob's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Copy that Private Ames. Ready the weaponry and prepare for battle. Do you all know the difference between a British Spitfire and a German Ju-87 Stuka? Over." He had knowledge of all war planes from pretty much every country. He could tell the difference between them in heart beat, but if the boys didn't they could end up accidentally shooting down an ally plane. Each one gave their positive answers over the radio. Well that was one worry put to rest; but still the worst was yet to come.

At first it was nothing, but a subtle orange light glowing dimly in the distance. Alfred assumed it was only a communication tower rising high above the city, but when he grew closer he realized that the subtle orange glow was a raging fire that was burning the city to the ground. Planes both British and German buzzed through the sky like angry wasps; bullets shooting back and forth between them wildly with hopes that they would hit another and take him down. Alfred could see the people below running around to try and escape the collapsing building that sent huge puffs of smoke and glowing embers up to the heavens.

What a sight that was so horrifying yet somehow alluring at the same time. "Spread out boys! Don't lose communication! Over!" Adrenaline began to course through Alfred's body as he jerked on the steering wheel sending the plane dive bombing to the side and off to help a British plane fighting off two German. The hunk of metal shook and hummed as he pressed on the button release torrents of metal shelled bullets into hull of the enemy plane. Smoke billowed out of the iron hull like gushing blood on a human as it slowly began to sink to the ground below. Jerking up on the wheel Alfred veered around and went off to seek his next victim. Eyes expertly scanning the area from behind glasses. He saw more British planes fighting tooth and nail with German while the seven American ones buzzed around and aided those who needed it.

After shooting at a few other German planes and successfully taking down one more Alfred couldn't help, but feel this horrible feeling welling up in the pit of his stomach. Something was pulling him to the ground, telling him to land. He tried his best to ignore it; expertly flying through the sky and fighting the enemy yet the feeling wouldn't cease and continued to burn at the back of his mind. He needed to land; he had to see if Arthur was surviving through this devastation. "Ames I'm landing! Don't you guys even think about following me! Over."

"Wait Sir! There's nowhere to land! You could be shot before you even find a safe place to bring the plane down! Over!" Alfred didn't listen to the boy's warning; eyes scanning over the crumbling earth to find a large clear spot to land. There was a space, right on the long grassy strip in front of St. Paul's Cathedral. It wasn't very big and the angle he'd have to land at would be hard to work with, but he had to; it was the only place. Keeping the wheel steady and watching for enemy planes he brought down the humming mass of metal; its massive frame coming to a grinding halt on the grassy field. He scrambled out of the cock pit; throwing his aviator cap to the ground and finally getting a look at the burning city from a civilian's point of view.

Everything was falling apart. Building no longer able to stand collapsed in on themselves and their debris fell to earth crushing and killing only god knows how many people. The chunks of earth spewing up from the ground as the bombs plummeted down deep into the soil. People ran ever which way in desperation to survive yet they all knew that no matter which way they ran they would not be safe from the explosions. Fire burned all around in a never ending circle that seemed virtually inescapable; the embers fluttering through the air like a hot snow. America whirled around a stared up at the Cathedral; it wasn't there. The whole thing was shrouded in thick black smoke as flames licked at the sides of its massive and elaborately built frame. The only thing even slightly visible through the smog was the building's dome where a cross stood like a faint sign of hope through the chaos.

This was no time to be standing around and taking in the scene around him. Leaving his beloved plane unattended Alfred pushed through the currents of people running for shelter and fire fighters desperately trying to save their city and beloved cathedral from the angry flames. He had to make it to the hospital; he had to make sure Arthur was still alright.

Out of breath, chest heaving with desperate gasps for air. He stopped for a brief second; hunching over his knees and taking a moment to catch his breath and think. The hospital… the hospital…. What direction was the god forsaken building in!? Alfred didn't know London! He was basically just running around blindly this entire time! It wasn't like he could just ask for directions; everyone was panicking too much for them to even notice his existence. He stood up and looked around. Where was it… where was it?

He got his answer when he turned around. The large multistory building stood billowing with smoke and collapsing through the enchanting dance of the flying embers. He could see people still running out of the building while others desperate cries to be saved echoed from within. Had Arthur gotten out or was he still trapped within? What about the quirky little brunette nurse Abby who had tended to him? A man in a white coat began stumbling out to the street next to him from the burning building; his head bleeding a bit and his old eyes wide in fear. Assuming that he was a doctor Alfred moved quickly and blocked the man's escaping route. He took the man shoulder a bit more roughly than he usually would, but his emotions were raging in him like a tornado. "Where is Arthur?!" The blonde demanded.

"A-Arthur…?" The doctor stuttered.

"Kirkland! Kirkland! The man who is this country!" He shouted as he shook the poor man.

"I-I don't know! I'm not sure if he made it out! I- I think he may still be inside t-though!" The terrified man stuttered nervously. Alfred quickly threw the doctor aside who proceeded to crawl away and seek protection from the raid. Fierce and unafraid Alfred braced himself and charged into the burning building; determined to get Arthur out safely even if it killed himself in the process.

Even though he himself wasn't human his body tended to function like one. His lung tightened and constricted in his chest as the pungent and bitter smoke of the burning wood them. Squinting his stinging eyes against the smog and holding a sleeve of his mouth in attempt to filter it he bounded and ran over debris to try and get the wing where he remembered Arthur's room was. His heart pounded in his chest; thumping wildly against his rib cage. Please let him be alright….

"-lp!" The end of a muffled cry for help reached Alfred's ear. He turned his head in the direction it came from. "Pl-! He-! S… Kirkland!" The voice sounded familiar; Alfred guessed it had to be Abby. Luckily Alfred was unnaturally strong and he used to unique skill to move beams and objects that had been toppled over in his path. As he grew closer he could hear it; the familiar strangled screams of a nation suffering a near fatal blow to his capital. The screams came from behind the door marked '133' in charring golden numbers. The sound of pounding fist echoed against the wooden surface. "Please help! Sir Kirkland is still in here! Help! We have to get him out!" Abby's voice was high pitched and strained with panic.

"Abby! Abby!" He called through the wood.

"Mr. Jones?! Is that you!?" The relief in her voice was still apparent in her panicked voice. "Mr. Jones…! The door it's stuck! I can't get it open!"

"Abby make sure you two are away from the door; I'm gonna bust it open!"

"Alright!" He could hear the faint shuffling noise as she tried to drag the thrashing and flailing Arthur away from the door. "Alright, we're away!" Backing up a few feet Alfred turned his shoulder towards the door so it would take the full impact. He charge forward; barreling into the wooden slab and sending it splintering off its frame and hinges. He looked to the corner of the room where he found Abby, her white uniform turned black and gray by soot, clutching onto Arthur who continued to scream and squirm with the pain wracking his body. Alfred rushed over to the two and kneeled down on the floor next to them.

"Do you have anything you can give him?!" He demanded.

The teary eyed brunette looked up at him with wide eyes and shook her head. Well getting Arthur out of here wouldn't be easy with his screaming and trashing. He took Arthur away from Abby's grip and propped him up so his neck was exposed. "He's gonna hate me for this later…" He mumbled out loud. But it had to be done; it was the only way. With one sharp fluid strike Alfred slammed the side of his hand against Arthur's neck, knowing the sudden sensation would knock him out. Arthur's green eyes went wide as a loud gasp blew out from his lungs; then the green orbs fluttered closed and his body went limp with unconsciousness. Abby's brown eyes went wider, if that was possible, and she looked up at Alfred horrified; most likely thinking he had killed Arthur. "He'll only be knocked out for awhile. He's fine." She only gave a small nod.

Alfred grabbed the unconscious blonde Brit and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry to bring him out of the building; Abby following closely behind, practically glued to his back. Carefully they proceeded around burning beams and broken object strewn in the way. Alfred didn't want to admit that he could hear it, but the creaking sounds that came from above gave proof that they didn't have very much time before the ceiling collapsed on top of them. He quickened his pace begging that god would let them get out alive.

That's when it happened. The ceiling above them creaked and moaned like a tortured soul before one of the weakened beams came crashing down right over Alfred and Arthur. There was no time to react no time to think. Alfred's prayers would go unanswered as he met his demise; never being able to tell Arthur that he had come back for him. He only wished he had been able to at least get Arthur and Abby out; if died who cared? America would be reincarnated in another person anyway so it's not like it would matter.

Alfred braced himself for his death when suddenly two small hands found their way to the middle of his back; gentle at first, but then forceful as they pushed him out of the way along with Arthur. There was crash, a sickening crack, a scream that rang so hauntingly in his ears. He whipped his head around to see Abby crushed under the beam; face pain stricken and brown eyes growing dim. She groaned a little before shifting only to gasp in pain and remain still.

Instantly horrified by most definitely fatal injury Abby had received Alfred laid Arthur down and crawled down next to her. "Abby! Abby! I'm gonna get this off of you okay?!" He screamed in his frazzled state as he moved to lift the beam off her.

"Please Mr. Jones…" She protested weakly as she tugged on his pant leg to get his attention. "You don't have any time, just please… please get Sir Kirkland out of here… that's all I want…"

"No you're going to get out of here too!" He shouted angrily as he put his hands under the beam and tried to lift it off.

"Mr. Jones stop!" She screamed furiously to catch his attention. "Just please…" She whimpered as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "Just please get Sir. Kirkland out…. He saved me once and now it's time I repaid him…" Her eyes slid down to where the man in question still laid there unconscious in the inferno. She sighed once and then looked back up at Alfred. "Please that's all I want…"

He was so conflicted. So angry and so sad at the same time. He should be able to save her too, but there was no way he would be able to. With a heart that weighed worlds he picked up Arthur and proceeded to run out the burning building; leaving that quirky little brunette nurse to meet her fate among the flames.

The chaos outside continued just a fiercely as it had before as Alfred carefully loaded his British counterpart next to him in the cockpit of his plane, which had somehow amazing managed to stay in one piece during all the fuss. He took off from the grassy patch in front of St. Paul's and took to the sky; off to some place that would be safe.

Alfred gripped the steering wheel of the plane; the tendons sticking out from under his knuckles turned white. Eyes blurring behind his glasses as he gazed absent mindedly at the second great fire of London.

**Okay everyone sorry if it seems sappy and overly dramatic and everything, but hey why don't you sue me? (Not really) Sorry if it's also kinda confusing or it just kinda seems to droll on, but I don't think it turned out that bad. Next chapter will be the last one! Thanks lovies! 3 **


	6. Sitting By Your Side

Where exactly Alfred had landed, after he had flown out from the clutches of the burning capital, he wasn't sure. He didn't know the territories of England very well so when he landed on the air strip in this small city like area he wasn't sure what its name was. He made sure to keep his aviator cap on as he climbed from the cockpit; trying to hide his messy blonde hair. Most English people wouldn't know the characteristics of the man that was America, but he couldn't e too careful. If his boss caught wind of him fighting against the Germans well he might as well kiss his ass goodbye.

"'Ey! Who 'er you?!" A deep voice twanged with a thick cockney accent called as the bright light of a flash light reflected of Alfred's glasses and into his blue eyes. Convince them you're English; Alfred thought to himself.

"Um… Hello I'm uh… James Lockley…" Finally all those years of trying to impersonate Arthur's accent were paying off. "I just flew from London… it was under attack from German aeroplanes."

"Well then what' ar' you doin' 'ere?!" He shouted in surprise. "Shouldn' you be back there fighting!?"

"No I had to retreat. I have someone who needed to be brought away from there…" Alfred explained as he moved back to the cock pit and gently hooked one arm under the still unconscious Arthur's knees and one behind his shoulders; lifting him out bridal style.

The man shined the flash light over Arthur's face, curious to see just who was so gosh darn important. The man let out a gasp and nearly dropped the flashlight when he saw the familiar face. "Good lord! It's Sir Kirkland!"

"Obviously…" Alfred muttered inaudibly to himself. "He needs to get to a hospital; do you have one in this town?"

"Course we do. I'll take you there me self." He said as he clicked off the flash light, putting it in a loop on his belt and then walking over by Alfred to take Arthur from his arms.

"Thank you. You get him in the car I'll be there in a moment." The guy nodded his head; carrying the small blonde Brit with ease to a jeep that sat near the base. Alfred crawled back into the cock pit; climbing over the seat and grabbing the radio. "Private Ames? Private Ames do you read me? Over." The transmission came broken and slightly fuzzy, but it was still there.

"S-…. Sir… that you… thank god! We thought… died!" Jacob's southern twanged voice came through the head phones. "Where… sir? Over."

Finishing the question in his head Alfred answered. "I'm not sure. I retrieved Arthur Kirkland and brought him to a town away from London where there weren't any bombings. We are taking him to a hospital. I'm going with him. Head home and be careful. If you are approached lie about your American nationality; say you're English. Over." It could cause a great controversy if it was known that American operatives helped fight with the English.

"Sir… what… you? You must… back! Mr. Roosevelt… know! Over!"

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I'll take care of old Roosevelt don't worry about him either. I have to go, but I'll contact you later. Over." Without waiting for any response Alfred hung the radio back up, hopping out of the plane and running over to where two headlights shone from the front of the awaiting jeep. He wasn't going to abandon his friend. No not this time.

~*****~

Ah, what time was it? Alfred thought to himself as he stirred from his sleep; his back stiff and aching from the position he had drifted off in. He turned his head quick from side to side; taking relief in the slight snapping crack of the vertebrae. He rolled his shoulder a few times before looking over to the plain generic clock that sat hung up on a nearby hospital room wall. 4:15 the Roman numeral style numbers and slow ticking hands told him. He could tell by the lack of sunlight pouring into the small sterile room that it was PM instead of AM. He lifted his arms high over his head letting each of the muscles lining his upper half get a good wake up stretch. Pushing his glasses up his nose so the balanced on the cartilage properly he looked over to where a messy blonde head sat on a pillow covered by sheets that smelled of floral soap. Arthur's breathing was deep and even; his chest rising and falling with each slow and thoughtful breath. His lips were turned in a slight frown and his thick brows furrowed but all and all he seemed to be sleeping peacefully despite the brutal attack he had been given earlier.

Alfred smiled to himself and gently ran on hand over the blonde's forehead, pulling back the golden fringe that had been stuck there from perspiration. He released a sigh from his lungs as he stood up from his chair; shoving his hands in the pockets of his beloved bomber jacket and pacing over to where the thin curtains hung drawn over the window. He could see a few lights still on here and there aside from the street lamps of course. Maybe one car passed on the ghostly silent street, but other than that everything thing was still and quiet. The only thing that seemed to keep him convinced that the world hadn't stopped turning was the small scuffling and mumbling of the few nurses still on duty and the deep even breaths of the blonde Brit in the bed. He sighed again allowing the curtain to fall back in place as he moved back across the room; flopping back down into the uncomfortable little arm chair that had been placed in there for him. Careful not to disturb Arthur he kicked up one foot onto the bottom corner of the bed and folded his hands in his lap. He sat there in the near silence and for a moment just thought.

Everything that had happened just replaying in his mind like a recording; rewinding, fast forwarding, playing in slow motion… pausing on the face of one in particular. God that poor girl… Abby…. She had so bravely given up her life to save those of Alfred and Arthur. Alfred could feel his heart weight heavy in his chest at the image of her face just as he turned and left her to perish in the fire. But there was nothing he could've done… right? He moved his leg down from the bed; placing it back on the tiled floor. He leaned over himself, placing his elbows in his knees and holding his head up by the roots of his dark blonde hair.

He couldn't have done anything, right? Even he couldn't be a hero all the time, right? It wasn't his fault, right? ….Right? "What's your problem you sodding git?" A familiar voice asked with one of those well loved freakish insults hanging at the edge of the sentence. Alfred moved his head from his cradling hands and up to where two eyes as green as the grass on the English country side stared back at him. Arthur sat as propped up as the flat pillows would allow; his arms folded tightly against his slender chest. Alfred pushed his glasses up his nose again; dragging his chair over more towards the now conscious Brit.

"Hey Iggy… how're you feeling?" He asked politely enough.

"Just fine and dandy." The sarcasm in his voice was so intended and obvious that is hurt. Alfred arched his eye brows innocently; moving his face down wards so he looked at Arthur from under his blonde lashes in an attempt to earn some kind sympathy. "Don't you give me that look Alfred Jones." The older nation scolded as the scowl on his lips grew a bit deeper. Alfred stopped; bringing his head up to look at the other man normally. I air of silence settled between them for a few seconds; Alfred unable to think of something to say. "… You came back…" Arthur mumbled quietly as he glanced sideways away from the other's gaze. A grin spread its way across Alfred's lips.

"You didn't _really_ think I'd abandon ya, did you?" He said with a small chuckle. The Brit's cheeks burned a light shade of pink. That brought Al's mood down a bit that the other wouldn't have faith in him, but he knew deep down Arthur knew he would never leave him. Without so much as a glitch in his smile Alfred confidently leaned over; placing his hand over Arthur's. His hands were so small, with long elegant fingers and smooth, soft alabaster skin. The older nation flinched a bit and his face grew a deeper shade of red, but by all means he didn't pull away and smack Al over the head like he normally would. "Arthur…" He began softly. The older's green gaze slid back to the corner of its socket, gazing at Al for a moment before shyly looking away. "C'mon I'm never going to leave you. Never. You're my best friend and you've pretty much always been there for me so I should do the same for you." he moved to stoking his thumb against Arthur's smooth skin. "Even if it isn't much I wanna do what I can for you because well…" He faltered in his confident speech. Thinking carefully in his choice of words. "Well…" He could feel his tanned cheeks burning with a new shyness.

"Where's Abby?" Arthur asked abruptly as he snatched his hand away in a nervous attempt yo keep Alfred from saying anything else. Alfred felt his heart squeeze and his breath catch in his throat. Well he was hoping that question wouldn't rise up, but of course it did….

"Well uh, Abby…" Alfred began softly as he drew his hand back into his lap. "She uh… she…" he found himself completely at a loss of what to say.

"Alfred." Arthur's voice was normal volume, but it was so stern so demanding at the same time. "What happened to Abby?" Alfred dared look at the other's eyes, but quickly looked away out of fear of their fiery intensity.

"She… she…" His voice came dry as his throat squeezed and scratched with what he felt were tears forming behind the rims of his glasses. "She…a beam… it fell… she knocked us out of the way… it landed on her… I couldn't move it… I…I…" By this point tears were beginning to flow freely down his cheeks turning blotchy and red with his growing distress. His large frame shook with small silent sobs as he grieved the life of the quirky little brunette he had met in that sterile little hospital. "It was my fault…. All my fault… I couldn't… I couldn't save her…. I'm no hero… not at all. Not even if I couldn't-!" His little tangent was cut short as a pair of thin frail arms flung themselves around his large shoulders; small hands gripping onto the back of his favorite bomber jacket.

"Shut up!" Arthur cried brashly in his ear. "Just shut up don't say that you sodding git!" Alfred could tell by the wetness soaking into the fuzzy collar of his jacket that Arthur was crying; angry frustrated tears. "The Alfred I know would never say this shit!" His small hands gripped as tight as they could, but the hold was still weak with the loss from the battle.

"Arthur…" Alfred mumbled quietly.

"Please… so much is changing and… you're one more thing that doesn't need to change…" Alfred could see that even though he held this tough visage on the inside Arthur was a terrified as a small kid during a dark violent storm. He was afraid for his country, for his people, for his life, and for the life of Alfred….

Alfred pulled just far enough so that he could face him properly; cupping Arthur's delicate face in his large hands. What he wanted to say… what he had wanted to say for years now…. Well it couldn't be expressed in words, only actions.

It was soft and pleasant, not rough and forceful. When their lips touched it felt like all the misfortune the two had seen in the past few months melted away like the frozen snow in winter to the first warm breaths of spring. A meeting of timeless bliss that would forever tingle on the pairs lips in constant reminder of each other's presence and love for one another. Oh what a kiss it had been….

Alfred had been caught by his boss; Arthur moved back to his home on the far outskirts of London. Despite the extremely risky and death defying stunt Alfred had pulled the old man was nice enough to allow him to stay in London with his new lover. The attacks continued for awhile still, but now every time a bomb landed, bringing destruction to British soil; when Arthur woke up screaming with pain Alfred was always there to hold him close and do his best and soothe and comfort the older nation. In Arthur's opinion that was much more than any amount of sedatives and morphine could do. As long as his Hero sat by his side Arthur knew he could make it through the Blitz.

**Well lovies that's it! I want to thank all the people who left nice comments and favorite the story and such; thank you so much for sticking with it! If it's not too much to ask I'd like everyone to leave a review about what you thought of the story as a whole. You're favorites and story alerts are greatly appreciated, but there's nothing like hearing feedback. Well thanks again! It's been a pleasure! :D **


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